One of these crazy old nights
by Blooming Cosmo
Summary: He wants to paint his car red and obnoxious. But most of all he wants the summer. [1970s AU]


_**One of these crazy old nights**_

_One of these nights__  
__One of these crazy old nights__  
__We're gonna find out__  
__Pretty mama__  
__What turns on your lights__  
__The full moon is calling__  
__The fever is high__  
__And the wicked wind whispers__  
__And moans_

-Eagles

* * *

The sun is in her hair again and he thinks it would be a grand time for the universe to collapse on itself. It wasn't supposed to happen, and it wasn't supposed to be this easy, but he kind of loses hold of that thought when she shifts her head from her position on his stomach to cast him over a look. He just throws his head back, giving her only his chin to meet while setting his eyes to the sky immediately.

It's really blue. Like as blue as the ice pop he had in his hands just a half hour ago. And both of their mouths are still stained with it, sticky and uncaring and sweet.

"Earth to Wally," he hears, he feels her say as she buries her chin right below his ribcage.

He answers with fingers, twisting around in lazy circles at the top of her scalp, swirling into long blonde hair. Halting his movements, he lowers his head and catches the glint of silver in her eyes.

"Sorry, beautiful. Got my head in the clouds." At least he was being honest with the current state of his mind, "What's up?"

"Well, maybe if you came down to our lovely planet every once in a while you'd know that it's time for us to go," she hums, and it does something to him, makes him shutter when she finally pulls herself up and away from him.

She shakes her hair back, most of it falling into spots that he likes, but she's gathering it up too quick for him to hold onto the image. A few combs through with her fingers, and it's tied back up into her classic ponytail. And no matter what she does the flyaways at the crown of her head won't be tamed, so they cut into the sun setting in the East instead and leave him stunned.

She frowns at him, poking into his side when he doesn't respond to her insistence on their departure.

"Chill, I'll have you home quick. I know the back roads. The cops never go chasing over there, so I'll go really fast," he grins before sitting up. She doesn't seem too impressed with his words, so he hopes that the clearness of his green eyes and a promise will appease her instead.

(She has a thing for his eyes. She tells him that they are pretty great and bright and her favorite color when they talk for real the first time around and they aren't super busy with their hands or mouths.)

"Artemis, I solemnly swear on my life, that you will be home before eight o'clock. That's a promise."

"You of all people don't need to be swearing on things like that," she scoffs. "It's probably not even a good idea to promise something that ridiculous if you can't even make it on time to pick me up, ever."

He rises up onto his elbows, pouting as clear and unforgiving as possible. It totally backfires though because she's smiling and calling him an idiot all in the same second.

"Idiot? I think you meant charming," he finally says, sweeping her hand up in his as they make it down the grassy hill they were lazing about in.

"You'll have to do better to convince me that you are charming," she toys around, her converse kicking up dust towards the bottom of the hill where the grass wasn't as full.

He quickly releases her hand, the air swift out of his lungs as he jogged up to the side of his 1958 Thunderbird. It's his pride and joy. It's over a decade old and doesn't count the miles anymore. But it's ridiculously reliable and rusting over around the hubcaps like a champ. He'll paint over the baby blue one day. Probably red and super obnoxious. He likes the idea of that. It's kind of perfect, but for now, he pulls on the handle for the passenger's side and dramatically bows his head and sweeps his arm towards the leather seat.

"Nothing more charming than me really," he grins.

She stops right in front of him with a shake of her head, shoving her hand straight into his shoulder before hopping in and slamming the door shut without him. He doesn't move, and instead makes a downward gesture that gets her to roll down her side of the window. She rests her arms over the side of the door, looking up at him.

"It's rude to slam doors," he jests leaning into the door, his forehead pressed to hers.

It's warm here. He likes it. And when she's got him full on the mouth with a kiss that kind of shatters his world for him, he can't help, but make a face that let's her know.

"Okay, loser. Get in the car already." And she's off of him and he wonders exactly what he was doing without her a whole summer ago.

* * *

"Shhhh," she starts, but now she's a stuttering mess in between fits of giggles and it sounds more like interrupted whistling, her fingers falling over his lips as he closes the door at the top of the stairs.

But he's just as far gone as she is, and he has to make sure to grab on to her and the banister to ensure a safe descent downstairs to his basement. In his parents' house. And his parents aren't home. And he can hear his heart in his ears when he reaches the bottom step and her face buries into his shoulder.

She breathes.

He's turning around pretty quick to look at her face. He has to remind himself this is the same girl that he was angry with, the same girl that teased him, the same one that made it a point to torment him on a daily basis.

But she's different. So different, and when she slumps forward into his arms he looks at how soft she looks. She's not hard. She's not steel. She's just Artemis. And he remembers this more when she kisses him for the second time in his life. It tastes strong like the Kentucky Whisky he promised his uncle he'd never touch at the age of ten. And it's so much better than he'd ever imagined it would be.

It tastes sweeter on her lips and on her skin and on her tongue.

He misses her. He actually misses her and he ends up chewing the inside of his cheek when Dick finally decides to ask about the sudden crease in his brow.

"Dude, come on. You look like you're everywhere, but here. I've been talking to you for the last ten minutes. Did you even hear a thing?" Dick accuses before tossing the hacky sack with such a force that it kind of stings in Wally's hands when he catches it clumsily.

"Whoa! Sorry. You were saying something about…" Wally eases into a silence, trying to dig up their conversation.

"Zatanna. Come on, keep up," Dick urges while pushing his hair back.

When he realizes the direction finally, Wally hunches over with a teasing look drawn up to his ears.

"Zatanna Zatara?" he asks with a chuckle.

Dick crosses his arms, his muscles twitching underneath the plain red t-shirt that was clearly getting a bit too small for his growing form. "Yep, her. The dark haired chick with that skirt…she's something special. She's your science partner isn't she? You need to put in a good word for me."

Wally tosses the hacky sack back with as much force as he'd received it, and he shrugs his shoulders as soon as the wind outside tousles his red, red hair about. "Sorry, buddy. She's partnered with someone else now. Raquel, I think. But honestly, I thought you were pining over Barbara the last time I checked."

He watches Dick's shoulders stiffen, and he tosses the hacky sack in a curved arc directly behind him towards the left. The burly teen beside him doesn't even flinch, just grabs it one handedly in the air before deciding to flick it across from him.

Conner stands with a crossed look when Dick doesn't answer quickly enough. "Let me guess, she's through with you?"

"Wow, not in so many words," Dick rolls his eyes precisely, "More like, _you're not ready yet_. Her words, not mine. Just proves my point though. Perfect relationships don't exist, okay? They all fall apart eventually."

Conner doesn't look pleased in the slightest by his statement, but before he can even voice his opinion, Kaldur's cutting in and taking control with a liquid baritone voice that desires their attention. "Perhaps relationships are just different for everyone."

Kaldur takes a cautious look between the boys before picking up the hacky sack lying in the dirt, and it really gets Wally thinking.

_Yeah, really different._

"Kaldur's right," Dick insists, tossing the bulkier boy a look promising to drop the subject if he did, "I just take things as they come. But you, you have Megan. And that's something special. It looks it, anyway."

Conner rubs at a spot between his shoulder blades before accepting the answer and returning to his spot in the circle they had made.

And Wally pretends to watch, tries to be a part of the group and have a little more fun, but he can't even focus if he wanted to. He just stands there, slack jawed and dumb. So when the hacky sack finally catches him square on the forehead they decide it's best to break up the game and go home.

But Dick knows better. He had grabbed Wally fast when he had tried picking up his biology textbook in one arm, and began steering him in a walk around the school that lasted only a few minutes.

"You've been quiet. That's very odd for you," Dick finally says. "Just a week ago you were practically dancing in the street happy. Did something happen?"

"She hates me," he answers quietly, but he's sure Dick can hear him perfectly clear.

"Who? Wait, is this about that girl? What's her name? Ar…"

"Artemis," Wally finishes for him. "She's…"

"I remember. I thought you couldn't stand the sight of her." But Wally is shaking his head in disagreement half way through Dick's assumption. "Or not. Okay, start talking."

* * *

"Get bent!"

He's never heard her that shrill. He's only known her since the start of September. She did shout at him once in March. But he only _really_ knows her after June.

He forgets about March altogether.

"No, thanks," he calls back.

"Who even let you in," she demands.

"Your mom." He had a knack for honesty.

"Get out."

"No," he answers strongly.

"Seriously, you have no business here, and I don't want to see you anymore!"

"You're lying! You're doing that thing with your eyes when you lie. I know you're lying!"

"You don't know me. Not everything comes down to a science, Wally. Especially not me. So leave. Leave now!"

"Not until you tell me why I should!"

He doesn't remember tears or anger. He just remembers the distance between them in that moment.

"My family's full of a bunch of crooks, Wally. I won't be better than them now, I won't be better than them a few years from now. I can't be like you. I can't have the white picket fence or the family holidays. I can't have your life.

"I can share it with you. I can share my life, Artemis."

He remembers the distance getting shorter.

* * *

He finds her in the rain. She's practically drenched in her green t-shirt and high waisted cut off denim shorts on the side of the road and he knows her from school. He'd tripped unceremoniously before her feet. And he'd sworn her off. He didn't care how infinite her legs looked or how he really dug her hair or that he kept thinking about the way her voice might sound if she—

He's turning up _One of These Nights_ and no he won't care. The low rhythm does little to distract him. No. He'll breeze past her. There's a warm dinner waiting for him at home and a family. He doesn't need to pull over. He won't pull over for her.

He feels pretty lousy when he can't even drive an inch past her, his foot heavy on the break as his car stalks an inch forward before halting. He puts the car into park and unfastens his seatbelt to lean across to roll down the window.

"Get inside!" he shouts over the blaring music and rain.

She looks completely lost when she finally realizes what he's asking her to do. She only bunches her brow in confusion.

"Come on!" he shouts urgently after turning down the radio, "It's pouring!"

He watches the cautious way she grabs at the handle of the door. She lets herself in and she begins dripping on his interior and he inwardly cringes, but he learns to deal with it.

He releases the clutch and his car rattles a little when he pushes forward on the gas. Everything else is quiet. She's quiet.

His fingers grip the steering wheel a little tighter. "So…you were just kind of standing there."

The conversation couldn't possibly get anymore awkward, but it does when she starts speaking in hushed raspy tones.

"You stopped?" It's clear that she knows who he is, and she's pushing her damp hair away from her face. He thinks it must weigh a ton being soaked like that.

"Wouldn't any decent human being pull over for a pretty lady in distress?" he admits shamelessly.

She makes a face at him, and he's not sure if he said the wrong thing, but he simply shrugs it off. "Don't insult me."

"Artemis, right?" he asks without taking his eyes off the bleary street.

"Um, yeah." Her voice is quieter than he remembers. She's not as hard. And she's uncomfortable. He can tell with the way she's shrinking in on herself in the seat.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay. I won't hurt you. Seriously, you can relax already," he says easily.

She doesn't offer much else to the conversation, and when he finally asks the burning question about why she was just standing out there in the first place, she stays tightlipped.

"So…" he drags out when the silence becomes a bit unnerving, "I've been driving around in a big circle for the last fifteen minutes. Want to at least give me a place I can drop you off at?"

"I guess." He knows exactly where it is. It's only a few blocks away from Dick's and he thinks he's driven past the exact address at least twice in his lifetime. He pulls up close to the curb in front of her apartment complex and she's out of the car and out of his life once more.

At least he thinks she is until she's tapping on the passenger side window. He reaches sideways to roll down the window, spits of rain hitting his wrist.

"Thanks," she says.

It's the first day of summer.

* * *

His parents' basement becomes their regular meeting spot. He doesn't have to go into lengthy explanations about her and she doesn't have to lie. He hates when she lies.

He hates forgiving her so easily.

He grabs her waist and pulls her closer.

"Can I take you to the rink?" he says when she's searching the corner of his lips with her own. "Or maybe to the drive-in? We technically don't have to watch it."

She stops short, releasing her grip on the collar of his button-down shirt. "Are you, asking me out on a date?"

It takes him a moment, but he's giving her his best grin. He's grinning bad. "Yeah."

The look on his face fades when she pushes herself off of him. "Can't."

"But. But, I don't understand," he stammers.

"Get decent Wally." Her wrist is at the bridge of her nose, trying to think herself through this.

She's pulling up her bellbottom jeans and he's hurrying to buckle his brown belt around his waist when she's taking the stairs two at a time. He grabs her wrist to stop her, and she's quick to shake him off.

"Wait, why all of a sudden? I thought—"

"You thought wrong. So wrong," she interjects.

He wants to say more, but the door is creaking open and she's giving him a look that says I won't be seeing you around.

"Wally, you shouldn't be meddling with someone like me. You got it good here. A whole family, a good history. Don't come after me."

He doesn't make good on a promise.

* * *

"Truth," she answers hotly.

"Aren't you cute, thinking that a truth is some kind of safe bet," Wally grins next to her.

"Ha, like anything you threw at me would be any good anyway," she teases while playing with the ends of her braid. "I don't even know why we started playing this dumb game in the first place."

"You said you needed a break from all the biology," he answers smugly, "And you didn't want to fuss with fixing the antenna on the TV down here."

She settles cross-legged on the colorful paisley print couch, raising a brow at him. "Well?"

"Well, what?" he asks.

"Are you going to ask me anything, doofus?"

He looks at her crossly, but she just rolls her eyes while she waits.

"Well?" she asks more irritated.

Something clicks in his mind, and he wonders if he looks as wicked as he does in his own mind when he tilts himself forward to invade her space. "Since you're so eager, tell me something that you like about me. And as the game implies, it better be the truth."

"You're the worst!" she hisses.

"Stop stalling and start enlightening me," he hums pleasantly. She fidgets with her fingers, and his face flattens in annoyance. "Come on. Not all of me is as horrible as you might think."

"You're right."

He pushes himself forward, and he just wants to see her face clearer, so he's not too subtle when he's pushing the few loose pieces of hair that don't reach her secure braid away from her face. "Come again?"

It all happens really fast after that. She thinks her gesture is so quick that he won't notice, but he's conscious the entire time that her lips are pressed to his cheek. And she wants that to be all of it, but it won't ever be.

He takes a deep breath as she swallows visibly, and her lips look dry and a little cracked. It only makes him want to kiss her more and more and more.

He doesn't know what he's doing, but he's doing it anyway. He cups her face in his hands, noses touching before he decides to brush his lips experimentally over hers. She doesn't protest. She doesn't move away. He presses into her a little harder. And it's divine. She tastes way better than regret and bubblegum and the line of water that always falls into your mouth when you run through the sprinklers. And—

She's talking fast. Really fast and away from his mouth. "Bathroom. I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back!" she announces.

He hears her heavy unknowing feet carry her up the stairs, but it's kind of muffled by the uncertain rhythm beating furiously in his chest.


End file.
